


The Bold of Heart Are Timid at the Start

by Bananase221



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bellamy is bad at relationships, Cheating, Endgame Bellamy Blake / John Murphy, F/M, I Ship It, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied/Referenced Sex, Insecurity, M/M, Monty knows what's up, Monty realizes, My First Work in This Fandom, Probably sort of OOC, Sad John, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, both are bad at feelings, i'm so bad at tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:58:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananase221/pseuds/Bananase221
Summary: Bellamy and Murphy are in love, but they both need to learn how to deal with that, and Murphy needs to learn how to love himself.





	The Bold of Heart Are Timid at the Start

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if this is crap, this is my first work in this fandom! I hope you enjoy! Murphamy!
> 
> (Also, I'm sorry about formatting again, if it's bad I have no idea what's going on or how to fix it!)  
> (I think I might have fixed it!)

The Bold of Heart Are Timid At The Start

            The first time John Murphy exited Bellamy’s tent, nobody was all that surprised. Murphy was not the first man to have made that walk of shame. The first surprise, though, was that Murphy didn’t try to hide his face like most of the others. No, Murphy strutted that walk of shame, head held high and a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, smirking and winking at people who dared look him in the eyes on his way back to his tent. It was the first time the crowd had felt shameful instead. One night, after something had set off the pair, they had argued in Bellamy’s tent, loud and aggressive screams filling the air as they vented every little thing that they hated about each other. Bellamy’s heart broke when he managed to provoke Murphy into revealing everything he really felt about himself. Then the tent went silent for a long time when Bellamy gripped Murphy’s face and crashed his lips upon those screaming horrible lines of self hatred, desperate for him to stop. Then it became something else and the next thing they knew Murphy was about to make his first walk from Bellamy’s tent.

            However, while the first time wasn’t a surprise, the second time certainly was. Because there was never a second time. All of Bellamy’s other conquests had been simply that – conquests. “Sex - no feelings, no marks, no repeats” was the definition of sex to Bellamy Blake; until Murphy walked back into his life. After the hangings and the torture and the death and the lifesaving, Bellamy and Murphy managed to get into a near-familiar pattern of unspoken trust. It wasn’t easy, but they somehow got to the point where they were fond of the other’s flaws and quirks.

            Murphy exiting Bellamy’s tent morning after morning soon became normal to everyone and people stopped looking. While everyone knew that Murphy and Bellamy were together, there was little to show for it outside the tent. Murphy remembers the first time he tried to give Bellamy a soft peck in front of another person. It was also the last time. Bellamy had recoiled from him like he was as diseased as when the grounders made him infect the camp. Murphy felt sick to his stomach and realized once again that he was never going to be important enough to be publicly loved, no matter how much he’d changed. So he settled for being Bellamy’s lover in his tent, and nothing but his friend in the open. Whenever he wanted to reach out to Bellamy for affection outside of the tent, he’d dig his nails into his palms and would bite his lips until blood welled to the surface, dripping down his cracked and dirty hands. Clarke never questioned when he showed up to have his wounds checked. She never met his eyes, and Murphy tried not to let it hurt.

            One night, when they were fast asleep together in Bellamy’s tent, Murphy woke in tears. His nightmares had been filled with grounder torture, parental abuse, and his lover’s neglect and the belief that Bellamy would hate him when he inevitably changed his mind about them - _him_. Because everyone always did. No one could love Murphy for long and stay sane.; he knew this from painful experience. Bellamy woke to the sounds of Murphy’s muffled sobs and tried to ease his pain with the soft pressure of his palms against his shoulders, cuddling closer against Murphy’s strong willowy back. “Murphy…? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He’d murmured, lips brushing his lover’s skin as his voice cracked, voice low and thick with sleep. Bellamy felt Murphy shrug off his hand and his heart tugged at something deep in his stomach, causing his breathe to falter. “ _John_. _I love you, please talk to me_.” Bellamy had whispered next, pressing his body closer still while keeping his hands away like Murphy wanted. Bellamy pressed his nose into the base of Murphy’s skull and breathes in the warm, sleepy, sweet scent of the boy he felt so many terrifying emotions for.

            “Not yet.” Murphy whispered back this time and Bellamy breathed out a breath of relief as Murphy’s body melted back into his and tension left his body. “I love you too, Bell.” Murphy whispered in a way that seemed almost an after thought, but was choked out in such a pained you knew it couldn’t have been. Bellamy fell asleep both more afraid and more deeply in love with the younger man in his arms. Murphy felt his heart grow softer as he listened to Bellamy’s strong steady heartbeat and fell asleep just after the breaths behind him evened into slumber.

            Bellamy feels panic rise up inside him when he realizes the extent of his feelings for Murphy. _Love_. Bellamy couldn’t afford to love, not on Earth. People could be alive one minute and dead the next, as proven by how many times he’d been sure he’d never see Murphy’s face again. He clenches his jaw and fights the desire to pull him into a hug, kiss his face, hold his hands, because no one had ever sacrificed as much for Bellamy as he stands next to him and defies everyone. He fights the need to hold Murphy, because Murphy believes in Bellamy’s leadership and, even more terrifying, in Bellamy. Bellamy bites his tongue and turns away from Murphy once again and makes himself scarce until they can both return to the safety of their tent. Their tent; because at this point pretending Murphy ever used his was useless anymore.

            Murphy walks around camp, feeling unsettled, and finally decides that today is the day he’ll tell Bellamy about his nightmares, about his dejection. So he does. Bellamy hugs him close as he listens to all the grisly details of his torture, and tells him that he’ll always be there for him. When Murphy tells him that he wants to hold him in public, Bellamy freezes, and he withdraws into himself and he tells Murphy that he’s just not ready for that yet. Murphy’s heart aches, but he accepts it. He knows he’s not good enough for Bellamy to love in public yet. He drops his head down onto Bellamy’s shoulder so he can’t see the saltwater forming behind his eyes, and tries not to flinch when Bellamy yanks himself away from Murphy as though he burned when Monty came looking for him. He met Monty’s eyes briefly and hated the pity that he saw there. Monty patted him softly on the shoulder as he and Bellamy passed him by and Murphy gave him a small smile, sad that it’s not Bellamy that’s standing by his side as the eyes around camp judge his every move. He hates the pity he sees everywhere. Monty stares a second longer at Murphy’s passing back and feels compassion arise for the broken man whose back is turned on everyone, but enough to miss the hand sneaking towards his face to wipe away the tears that slipped out. Monty looks away out of respect to the proud man and follows Bellamy, noticing how his shoulders are tensed. Monty knows Bellamy saw the tears.

            Bellamy never knew he could mean so much to one person, that he’d mean enough that he’s the only person someone would tell about the things that haunt them at every moment. He felt heat and joy rise within him that he was that to Murphy, until his mind got the best of him and it made him feel sick instead. Someone relied on him. Octavia, while he looked after her, never actually relied on him. Murphy was the first person to put that trust in him and it scared him more than he thought it would, no matter how he tried to ignore it. If he died, what would happen to Murphy? If Murphy died, what would happen to _him_? Bellamy, not able to be alone with his thoughts any longer avoided the large group of people collected at that night’s campfire and, for the first time in a long time, he went back to his tent alone.

            Murphy’s heart sunk when he watched Bellamy leave without looking at him. Not feeling like he’d be accepted in his tent tonight, Murphy excused himself from the crowd he was tentatively growing close with and went back to his own tent and curled up in the too-cold bed, mind plagued with his worst fears coming true. He wasn’t enough for Bellamy. He’d scared him away. He should never have confided in him. He shouldn’t have relied so much on Bellamy. _He’d scared him away_. He should have known Bellamy would leave like the others. The next night, Bellamy let his hand graze Murphy’s shoulder softly and Murphy followed him back into his tent. They’d kissed and talked and reconnected with loving embraces and soft smiles and gentle giggles as though nothing had happened the night before. But when Murphy woke up the morning after, he still knew that he wasn’t good enough for Bellamy. He could never be good enough for him. He wasn’t _good_. He was _bad_ and he was tainted. He sighed before he left that morning and kissed his sleeping love softly on the lips before exiting his tent.

            Murphy was as sarcastic as usual and Bellamy loved it. He had been quiet the other day and it had worried him. Bellamy felt the familiar fluttering in his chest and allowed it for a moment before quashing it. He loved this man and he wished he didn’t. And he wished he could tell Murphy why.

            One week later, Murphy spent his morning looking for Bellamy, only to find that he was nowhere to be found within or outside of camp. He wasn’t scheduled for any patrols or hunting and Murphy began to panic. Nobody seemed worried, and it made Murphy angry. He yelled at people who looked at him like he was crazy, then suffered, alone, through a panic attack behind the dropship. When he’d calmed down, he continued his search for Bellamy and heard his soothing voice float out from inside his tent, immediately feeling at ease. He smiled as the deep tones of his voice drifted, soft and gentle, out of the tent in the afternoon breeze. He gripped the flap of the tent to open it when he heard another voice. He froze as he listened to the distinct higher pitch of feminine giggling, along with Bellamy’s familiar deep throaty chuckle that Murphy was now the only one who heard. He felt like he was going to vomit when he heard the smacking of lips and he ripped open the tent door, staring directly into the guilty eyes of a swollen-lipped Bellamy and the confused eyes of a mussed Clarke.

            Murphy’s eyes burn with tears and he shakes his head, trying to breathe and finding that he can’t. His body physically reacts as though he was struck and he stumbles away from the tent, vision blurring and hands shaking as his heart hammers in his chest. He clutches at his heart, trying to control the sobs from taking over his body and his heart from beating out of his chest, breathing coming in breathy panicked gasps as his throat tightens. “Murphy!” Bellamy calls after him and he feels a molten stab of hatred burn through his gut as the situation sets in. He makes a run for the camp entrance, stopped once by Bellamy’s too-tight grip around his wrist that he easily yanks out of. He races out of the camp, past the guards, and makes it only two steps into the forest before he stops, breathing quickly and panicking, realizing he has nowhere to go. If he goes into the forest, he’s back at the mercy of the grounders, and if he stays he might just kill himself. Murphy begins pacing the thin line between “home” and “certain death”, yanking at his hair, his pulse pounding in his ears, taking stuttering steps towards the forest before taking it back and ending up back where he started. He cries out in frustration and a tear falls.

            Murphy hears but doesn’t register Bellamy catching up with him, but when he turns around the camp doors are closed and it’s just him and Bellamy outside the camp. Bellamy takes small, hesitant steps towards him and he looks pale. Murphy just shakes his head, entire body feeling both heavy and light all at once and drops down onto the ground, no longer desiring to stand.

            “Murphy. I’m sorry.” Bellamy whispers, sitting down near him.

            “No. You’re not. I understand. I just wished that I was wrong.” Murphy whispers.

            “Wait, what? What are you talking about, John?” The way Bellamy says his name makes him want to vomit.

            “I know you don’t love me and I know that nobody ever could. I’m not good enough and I never was. Clarke always was though, so it makes sense that it was her that you did this with.” Murphy’s trying to sound blasé, but is failing spectacularly as his voice shakes and his hands quiver. He tightens their grip around his knees that he’s pulled up to his chest as though trying to physically protect himself against the hurt.

            “Murphy! No! That’s not-“ Bellamy’s voice is panicked. He never meant for things to play out this way.

            “You don’t have to explain, Bellamy. I know that’s why you never touch me around the camp. You don’t think I’m good enough. And I understand that. I don’t’ need to hear it from you.” Murphy puts his head in his arms, hugging himself and hiding his face. Bellamy feels sick to his stomach, regret tearing through his body. _Stupid stupid STUPID!_ He thinks to himself as he tries bridging the gap he’d caused between him and Murphy. Murphy sees the attempt and shifts away.

            “Murphy, no! That’s not it at all. I just… I need to explain. I didn’t do what you think I did.” Bellamy’s shaky voice draws Murphy’s gaze back up to him but doesn’t look him directly in the eyes, confusion creasing his brows.

            “What do you mean, “I didn’t do what you think I did.”? I _saw you_. You _kissed_ her and you cheated on me!” Murphy’s anger and hurt shows in his voice.

            “I- I did cheat. And I’m so sorry for it. But I didn’t do it for the reason you think I did! I love you Murphy. So much that it scares me to think of being without you. It scares me to think that one of us could die and the other one would be heartbroken. I don’t want that for you, so I wanted you to hate me. But I never thought you’d blame yourself. Seeing you like this made me realize that no matter how terrified I am of loving you, of dying loving you, I’m more terrified of thinking that you could die hating yourself, and thinking that _I_ hated you. I’d rather die loving you than die alone because I was too afraid of death to accept you.” Bellamy’s voice is quick and Murphy’s confusion and hurt etches itself across his face.

            “Bellamy, I-“

            “No. Just. Please. Murphy I love you. Seeing the look on your face when you came in broke my heart and I realized that I’d made a mistake. And my bigger mistake was failing to show you how much I love you to not only you but to everyone.” Murphy stares at Bellamy in shock, hope digging into his chest before he stops it, shaking his head and hardening his heart.

            “Bellamy, I don’t believe you. You broke the trust we’d built up after you tried to hang me, and I… tried to…. _hang you_. I was able to accept that you thought I was too bad and disgusting to show off as long as I was able to trust that you would never do anything like this. I was able to trust that you would be mine in the tent every night. But now I don’t think so.” Murphy’s voice shakes and his face shutters Bellamy out like it hasn’t since the betrayals and hangings, nausea steadily creeping up his gut, attempting to wrest control away from the guilt and the fear and all the _goddamn hurt_.

            “Murphy, please. Tell me what I can do to fix this.” Bellamy pleads, breathing picking up as it starts to sink in that he really is losing Murphy and the cold fear of desperation begins clawing it’s way up his spine.

            “There’s nothing that can fix it. I’d hoped you’d be the one person not to confirm what I already believe about myself, but you did in the end. You’re just like everyone else.” Murphy spits out bitterly and Bellamy thinks he might throw up at being equated to the people who willingly strung him up for a crime he didn’t commit. For being compared to the people who had readily betrayed the already broken Murphy.

            “No! You’re wrong! I’m not like everyone else. And everyone else has started to see the real you, Murphy! People have seen that you’ve changed! There are people in there that care about you, whether you see it or not, and I’m one of them! I love you and I need you to tell me how to fix this, how to make up for what I’ve done!” Bellamy’s voice is raised and desperate, his hand reaches out for Murphy but doesn’t touch him, hovering over the younger man’s shoulder, desperate to be able to touch him once again. His fingertip just barely brushed his jacket and he feels his heart in his throat.

            Murphy moves away from his outstretched hand and stands up, Bellamy’s heart plummeting in the process as desperation firmly takes it’s hold, pleading for Murphy to come back and trust him again, to hold him again, to tell him that everything is alright again. Because Bellamy knows that if Murphy leaves him now he will never get him back, and nothing will ever be okay again because he will always remember breaking the boy he swore he’d protect. “There’s nothing you can do. You broke my trust again.” And with that he’s turning his back on Bellamy and walking back into camp, hunched in on himself, realizing that he can’t be anywhere Bellamy is anymore and he’d rather take his chances in that godforsaken forest than feel like _this_ every minute of every day.

            “Murphy!” Bellamy calls, fear gnawing deep in his stomach, overwhelming him, and he feels like he’s tipping precariously on the edge of a panic attack. He catches up with Murphy at the center of camp, everyone staring at them, but keeping their distance, forming a wide ring around the two.

            “Leave me alone Bellamy! I hate you.” Murphy’s voice is dark as he snarls at Bellamy, closing himself off from feeling, and Bellamy starts to shake, knowing that with every second he’s losing Murphy more and more. Bellamy doesn’t care that he’s started crying.

            “Let me make it up to you! It was a mistake! I LOVE YOU!” Bellamy’s declaration echoes around the camp and everyone holds their breath as Murphy stops in his tracks, turning slowly to stare at Bellamy, and wipes his hand under his nose.

            “What?” Murphy’s voice quivers, staring from Bellamy to the crowd surrounding them. His face less closed off then before, and Bellamy feels the smallest sliver of hope rise in his stomach when he realizes Murphy’s listening.

            “I love you.” Bellamy says, staring intensely into Murphy’s eyes, voice desperate. Bellamy whirls around, arms up in the air, presenting himself to the crowd surrounding them. “I love John Murphy!” He turns back to Murphy and stares him down, closing the distance between them. “I love you, John Murphy.”

            “Bellamy… I- I can’t do this.” Murphy’s voice shakes and his eyes are closed. Bellamy reaches out for him slowly and cups the young man’s jaw, staring at his scared, boyish face as his façade falls under his shaky touch.

            “Let me prove it to you.” Bellamy whispers, voice shaking, and Murphy’s eyes open, staring up at Bellamy in confusion.

            “What?” Bellamy smiles softly and moves his face closer to Murphy’s as his eyes widen, realizing what he intends to do, glancing wildly at the camp watching them.

            “Bellamy… What are you-“ Murphy is cut off by the gentle press of Bellamy’s lips upon his own. He protests for a minute, trying to fight it, pounding his fist against Bellamy’s chest, confused as to what has gotten into him, before letting his eyes fall closed and kissing him back, hard and desperate, and all that he’s ever wanted since he first realized he loved Bellamy.

            Bellamy pulls back and Murphy freezes, waiting for the inevitable rejection, and is confused to open his eyes to Bellamy’s lips on his forehead instead. He smiles at Murphy, hope and love taking hold of his expression. “I love you John Murphy. I mean it with every fibre of my being, and I don’t care who sees it. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I hope you’ll let me spend every minute of the rest of my life making it up to you and showing you just how much I love you. How much you _deserve_ to be loved. I made a mistake and I don’t deserve you, but I love you. Hopefully as much as you love me.”

            Murphy stares at Bellamy, still shocked and hesitant as Bellamy cups his face in his hands, running long fingers through his knotted, dirty hair gently. “I love you, John.”

            The whole camp seems to be holding its breath as they wait for Murphy to respond. “I love you too, Bellamy.” Murphy whispers, eyes still conflicted and his voice still hesitant, but feeling hope flare in his gut and love spread through his chest, allowing him to completely break his façade, soften his expression, and give Bellamy a hesitant, teary smile.

            Bellamy’s eyes are wet as his face splits into a grin as he pulls Murphy in for another kiss, someone in the camp whistling, setting off the rest of the cheers. But Murphy and Bellamy don’t notice the camp. They only notice each other. “Never do that again.” Murphy whimpers.

            “I promise. I love you so much, John.” Bellamy’s voice is soft and teary.

            “I love you to… Bell.” Murphy’s voice is hesitant at the loving nickname, but Bellamy’s heart soars, knowing that they’ll be alright.

            They’re not alright. At least not for a long while. There’s still much that needs to be fixed and discussed, apologies that need to be made and insecurities that need to be reconciled and worked through. They need to learn to be their own people alone as well as together. They need to learn to rely on each other, as well as trust themselves; to hold onto each other when the second and third times don’t work out and have faith that the fourth time finally will be the one. And even though it will take a lot of time and effort, they will eventually be okay. Because they love each other. It’s the thing they hold onto when times are hard. It’s the thing that they will both always remember and come back to. No matter what.  

            This is what Monty thinks while watching Murphy and Bellamy huddling together beneath the stars, eyes dancing with firelight, and surrounded by their people years later, looking as though they were carved from a single stone; made for each other. He watches as Murphy sighs in contentment, burrowing deeper into his place pressed against Bellamy’s side, snuggled underneath his arm, happiness radiating from him. He watches Bellamy kiss his hair softly, allowing his love for the man to show through every facet available, no longer trying to quell it. And Monty smiles to himself, happy that something good has managed to happen on Earth, knowing that these men found and fought for what they have, and will always love each other, no matter what. And the fourth time is perfect.


End file.
